


After the Masquerade

by lydiaroseonwingsofsong



Category: Discworld - Terry Pratchett
Genre: #First time caller, #Long time listener, Look I followed through on my threat to write smut!, M/M, Romance, Sexy Times, This would be my first contribution to the fandom
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-09-14
Updated: 2018-09-14
Packaged: 2019-07-12 06:50:04
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,768
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15989912
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/lydiaroseonwingsofsong/pseuds/lydiaroseonwingsofsong
Summary: Directly follows "Masquerade: You Can Fool Any Friend Who Never Knew You" by Veul_McLannonDrumknott takes Vetinari up on his suggestion to "get to know him better..."





	After the Masquerade

**Author's Note:**

  * Inspired by [Masquerade: You Can Fool Any Friend Who Never Knew You](https://archiveofourown.org/works/15935411) by [Veul_McLannon](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Veul_McLannon/pseuds/Veul_McLannon). 



> After bookmarking over 120 fics on this site (a good number of them Discworld-related), I figured it was finally time to contribute to the fandom. I could count the number of Drumknott/Vetinari smut-fics on one hand, so I thought that's where my contribution could be most valuable, he heh. 
> 
> Major thanks to Veul_McLannon for letting me continue their fic and give it the smutty ending I thought it deserved.
> 
> Since this is a direct continuation, this fic will make the most sense if you read "Masquerade: You Can Fool Any Friend Who Never Knew You" first.

As they broke the kiss, he saw Vetinari glance quickly away towards the door, and then back to him. Rufus didn’t think anyone else would have noticed that instant of tentativeness, of hesitancy, before Vetinari composed his face into something almost suave, if that word could ever seriously be applied to Vetinari (1). 

The Patrician quirked an eyebrow. “Well, if you truly wish to take me up on my offer, I believe we should... ah, reconvene elsewhere.”

With those piercing blue eyes upon him, Rufus was forced to consider what this really entailed. He found that it was one thing to think longingly of his employer taking him to bed in the abstract, and another to find it immediately in front of him, staring him (quite literally) in the face. 

Ultimately, however, this moment of consideration only lasted half a second. For how else could it have ended?

Rufus smiled up, dazedly but determinedly, from under his blond lashes. “Of course, my lord.”

Vetinari almost suppressed a self-deprecating almost-laugh. “I should think us to be on a first-name basis by this point in the evening. Is it so hard to call me Havelock?”

_No,_ thought Rufus, _and yes._ Because Havelock was what the other aristocrats called him, when they swanned in demanding things of his employer, before his cold stare and quirked eyebrow reduced their arrogance to nervousness. Havelock was what Rufus called him in his dreams, those private moments when it became too difficult to not fantasize and image what could be, what he was longing for. Havelock was what slipped from his lips when those fantasies lead him to pleasure himself, hurriedly and more than a little ashamedly, gasping it out like a prayer. Havelock. 

But Rufus had gone too far, gotten too close to turn back now. “Very well, then. Lead the way, Havelock.” 

And any reluctance he had towards addressing his employer as an equal disappeared as he saw the slight smile on Havelock’s face, a mix of triumphant and indulgent. “Capital!” The Patrician took Rufus by the hand and led him to a spot in the wall of the Oblong Office that looked like any other. But as Havelock gently pressed an unremarkable section of it, it slid back and revealed a passageway. He looked down at Rufus with a smile that could almost be labeled as mischievous. 

“As I am sure you are aware, dear Rufus, passageways such as these are quite useful in appearing omnipresent.”

Rufus had been reasonably sure before that his employer utilized a hidden network of passages to enable him to move around unseen, but the fact that Havelock was currently revealing one to him outright made Rufus realize the trust the Patrician had placed in him. That must indicate that this... whatever it was going to be (Rufus repressed a shiver of anticipation as he thought about it) was more than just a one-time thing. Didn’t it?

He was pulled back into the present by Havelock guiding him through the passage’s various traps and safeguards. The process was complicated and allowed no room for other thought. At the end of passageway, Havelock performed a complicated series of locking and unlocking various latches, before opening the door on front of them. 

He smiled at Rufus, looking almost apologetic. “I’ll show you the pattern at a later time, but I have to admit that I am rather ... impatient.” Havelock’s smile turned slightly hungry as he looked Rufus up and down. Rufus blushed, gaze jerking downward. 

Havelock stepped into the room and Rufus followed him. Despite his employer’s well-known asceticism, Rufus found that the room was warmed against the bitterly cold Hogswatch night by an industriously crackling fire. He wondered if it was normally this way, if Havelock allowed himself this small indulgence away from prying eyes, or if it had been laid in anticipation of his secret seduction of his secrecy actually succeeding. 

Rufus did not suspect the former, and still could barely believe the latter was actually happening. 

As Rufus was contemplating the room, the fire, the passageway, and what it all meant, the Patrician was removing his floor-length, feather-trimmed coat. The firelight glinted off of the ornate teal beadwork and Havelock’s ice-blue eyes as be folded it in half and laid it across the back of a winged armchair. He had moved on to undoing the buttons on his white waistcoat when Rufus looked up and caught his eye. Havelock’s gaze softened as he noticed the slightly stunned look on Rufus’ face. 

“Ah... perhaps I ... miscalculated?” Havelock seemed uncharacteristically unsure, long white fingers stilling over the small white buttons of his waistcoat. 

Rufus realized that his staring around in disbelief was giving the wrong impression. “No, my l- Havelock,” he said, stepping closer and taking the Patrician’s hands while looking up earnestly. “I suppose I am simply... taken aback by finally, actually... being here with you...” Rufus trailed off and looked down, embarrassed. 

Long, thin fingers captured his chin and forced him to look back up. Havelock smiled gently down at him. “My dear Rufus,” he began, before leaning down and finally resuming their kiss. 

Those long, thin fingers started working on the purple velvet waistcoat Rufus wore, and, having unbuttoned it slid it gently off of his shoulders along with his jacket. Havelock broke the kiss to place the items carefully on the back of the same armchair on which his own coat rested, before Rufus eagerly pulled him back and finished unbuttoning his white silk waistcoat. He started undoing the high-neck ruffled shirt as Havelock began working on Rufus’ own purple one. 

Rufus brushed open Havelock’s shirt and ran his hands over the planes of his employer’s wiry yet muscular chest and stomach. His hands drifted lower, to the fastening of white linen trousers. Rufus broke the kiss and looked up at the Patrician, hesitating. 

Havelock brought his hand up and cupped Rufus’s face, thumb stroking over his cheek. “We need not do anything that is not agreeable to you,” he said gently. 

Rufus considered this for only an instant. He had never been with another man, or a woman for that matter. He had certainly found others attractive, but none who so captured him, body and soul, like Havelock Vetinari. 

Rufus was fairly certain he would be agreeable to doing almost anything with Havelock Vetinari.(2)

He was uncertain as to how to put this into words, however, so he tried to channel all of his certainty and resolve into the press of his lips on those of the Patrician, resolutely undoing his employer’s trousers and allowing them to drop to the floor along with the white silk undergarments underneath them.(3)

Havelock pressed Rufus back towards the bed, which hit him in the back of his knees, causing him to sink down onto it. Quick, nimble fingers undid his own trousers and pushed them and his undergarments down his legs. Rufus kicked them off, along with his boots, as he maneuvered fully onto the bed. 

And then Havelock was over him, kissing him again, in that irritatingly-but-satisfyingly talented way of his, and there were no more barriers between them. 

Rufus reveled in the scrape of the Patrician’s close-clipped beard against his throat as Havelock dipped his head to kiss Rufus’s neck. He felt lips wander downward towards his chest, stopping here and there to plant a kiss. That clever tongue flicked against a nipple and Rufus gasped, arching upward against the sensation. When the tongue switched its ministrations to the other nipple, Rufus moaned and bucked upward. The movement brought his erection in contact with Havelock’s above him, and he moaned again at the sensation, as well as at the quick hiss of indrawn breath that escaped the Patrician. 

Rufus felt rather than saw Havelock reach over and take something out of the drawer of the bedside table. He heard a tinkling noise as his employer uncorked a glass vial one-handedly, poured some of the liquid into his hands, and leaned back over Rufus. 

And then Rufus was not in a position to think much of anything at all because Havelock’s hand, slicked in the substance, had surrounded his erection and squeezed deliciously. 

He couldn’t hold back the moan that tore itself from his throat, nor stop the helpless thrusting of his hips, creating a dizzying friction against Havelock’s palm. 

“Havelock... please...” Rufus gasped, not even sure what he was asking for. 

But the Patrician, as usually, seemed to already know. The grip of those thin, talented fingers shifted to encompass Havelock’s own erection against Rufus’s, as the soft, bearded lips returned to Rufus’s mouth in a blazing kiss. The Patrician swallowed the sounds that Rufus made as he set a dizzying pace with his hand on their joined cocks. 

With his last shred of coherent thought, Rufus reflected that he was delighted in being able to serve his employer in yet another way. The Patrician ruled both the city, and himself, as a tyrant. He allowed himself only the pleasure of seeing such a broken city work, without any praise, recognition, or affection from its citizens. 

Then, even the last shred of conscious thought left Rufus’s head as orgasm rocked through him. His head jerked back, and his pleasure was magnified by seeing the typically-unflappable Patrician losing control as he experienced an orgasm of his own. The pale thin shoulders shuddered as Havelock gasped out a strangled, “Rufus...!” and collapsed gently at Rufus’s side.

After several seconds, Rufus returned from the haze of sensation to glance over at his employer, whose breathing was still slightly labored. “Do you believe you have gotten to know me better now, Havelock?” Rufus teased, while taking advantage of the Patrician’s breathless state to tenderly (and presumptuously) brush a strand of that dyed-white hair away from his face. 

The Patrician smiled. “I believe I do, dear Rufus,” He leaned forward, close enough to kiss. “But I would not object to a second introduction.”

Rufus let out a little laugh, then a _mmph!,_ as Havelock’s lips met his once more. 

 

 

(1) Rufus thinks it can.

(2) The limits of what things Rufus would perform in the Patrician’s service had often been tested. He hadn’t yet found an uncrossable line.

(3) These had been specially purchased for the occasion. Everyone know that the Patrician only ever wore all black, including undergarments.(4)

(4) Except when blending into the shadows. Only the most experienced assassins, such as Vetinari, realized that dark grey or olive were the best for these occasions. Though it did not matter what color one’s undergarments were.


End file.
